


Words Upon The Waves

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Post Bartlett Administration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-03-09
Updated: 2002-03-09
Packaged: 2019-05-15 13:43:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14791592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: "Cast your words away upon the waves..."





	1. Words Upon The Waves

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

The Masterplan: Words Upon The Waves   
Category: C.J./Sam   
Rating: PG   
Spoilers: Teeny for "Hartsfield's Landing."   
Disclaimers: Not mine, don't sue. Property of Aaron Sorkin et al. and Oasis.   
Feedback: [samwest5@hotmail.com](mailto:samwest5@hotmail.com)   
Summary: "Cast your words away upon the waves..." 

Timeline: The week following "Make Some Sense." Late in the year 2006. 

With a slightly uncomfortable air about him, Sam stared up at the concrete building in front of him. Jesus. When was the last time he'd gone to Gage Whitney Pace? Probably the day he'd cleaned out his desk; the day after he'd gotten back from Nashua. It felt like forever had passed. Had he really known himself inside this building? 

But this wasn't a pleasure visit; it was necessary. He had to dig up some information, one way or another, for C.J. It was important. So he screwed up his courage and pushed open the marble-plated door. 

A coldly efficient secretary greeted him. "May I help you?" 

"Yes, I have an appointment with Mr. Irwin, please." 

"I'll tell him you're here, Mr...?" 

Sam flushed; this would be the hard part. The woman looked somewhat familiar. And his name wasn't exactly unknown around Washington. "Seaborn. Sam Seaborn." 

"Ah." The secretary said no more, but the expression on her face showed Sam he'd been caught out. 

Fortunately a light on the woman's desk saved him. "You may go in now," she said primly. "First door on your right." 

"Thank you." Sam strode quickly down the corridor, rapped once, and walked into the office of his friend James Irwin, who'd been a partner with Gage Whitney when Sam had been an associate. 

Irwin was seated, but jumped to his feet when he saw his appointment. "Sam!" he exclaimed. "How are you? It's been too long." 

"Yes, it has." Sam smiled politely. "C.J. and I have a daughter now, and I'm teaching law at Georgetown." 

"That's great." Irwin was all hale and hearty as he beckoned Sam to sit down. "So, Mr. Seaborn � Professor Seaborn, I should say �" He laughed once at his attempt at humor. "What can I do for you?" 

"Actually, Jim, I have a rather odd question for you." Sam got down to business now; this was where he shined the most. "I'm here on a... well, call it a fact-finding mission." He paused to gather his nerves; the first few moments would be the most critical. "What would you say about a woman running for President?" 

Irwin's reaction was rather anticlimactic. "Republican, Democrat or Independent?" 

Sam understood, though: Irwin was a Democrat. If a woman ran on the Republican ticket, it wasn't his concern; if she ran on the Independent ticket she wouldn't be much of a threat to begin with. "Democratic ticket, Jim." 

Irwin's eyebrows rose. "Who would the candidate be, Sam? Because frankly, it depends on the woman." 

Better just to spit it out. "My wife. C.J. Seaborn." 

Irwin's earlier reaction was nothing to Sam. But this one hurt. Instead of verbally responding, the lawyer threw back his head and laughed. "Sam, that's a really good one," he gasped. "C.J.? Please." 

Sam felt himself getting vaguely insulted. "What's wrong with it?" 

Irwin got himself under control. "She's never done anything like this before!" He elaborated. "Look, Sam, she's a smart lady. But she's never been in Congress or anything like that. She's very liberal. She's a Catholic, for God's sake � do you realize the time Kennedy had getting elected? I just don't think it would work. But then again," he added with a wry smile, "you always did like the lost causes." 

Sam kept his demeanor calm; there were bigger fish to fry. "Well, thank you, Jim. I guess I'll try other people." 

"Now wait just one moment, Sam." Irwin caught him by the wrist. "You're serious? C.J. might actually run for the nomination?" 

Sam kept himself noncommittal. "She just might. I don't know." 

Irwin smiled sourly and opened his door. "Well, Sam, you tell her to forget it. There are people who might act if they saw a Catholic woman run for President." 

He felt like an actor in a bad drama play, but he had to say it. "Are you threatening her?" 

"Just letting you know." 

He had his answer. Sam nodded once, through his increasing fog of anger, and stalked out of Irwin's office without appearing to do so.   



	2. Words Upon The Waves 2

Disclaimers/etc: part one.   
\-----------

"Um, sorry to bother you, but..."

Sam looked up swiftly from his perch on the bench in the lobby. "Yes?"

The young man who'd accosted him looked vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn't place him. "Ah... I just wanted to ask if everything was all right, Mr. Seaborn. I... heard Irwin's threat."

"Oh." Must play it down, Sam thought. "It's nothing, don't worry. Jim gets a bit excited in discussions like we were having." He stuck out his hand. "You seem to know my name, but I'm at a disadvantage."

"Oh!" The young man started slightly and shook hands. "I'm Kyle Gage."

Sam's eyes went wide. " *Gage* ?" he repeated. "As in old man Gage's son?" Here, he thought, was an ally worth cultivating. And besides, he seemed like a nice kid.

"Grandson, actually." The young man shrugged. "We don't get along too well."

"How come? Just out of curiosity, I mean."

A rueful smile appeared on Kyle's face. "I'm a Democrat."

Sam found himself grinning too. "That would do it."

"Yeah." Kyle shrugged. "He tends to keep me on a tight leash." He sighed. "I've been bugging him about letting me work on one of the national campaigns this time around, but he hasn't said anything one way or the other."

A light had jumped into Sam's brain as soon as Kyle had spoken. "Kyle... I have to ask you a question."

"Sure."

What the hell. "What would you say about a woman running for President?"

"Democratic?"

"Yeah."

"Are you kidding?" There was a gleam in Kyle's eyes that Sam liked. "I think it'd be great! The country needs a new direction, and God knows we're sick of Stewart for the past four years. It's felt like purgatory. Why?" he asked abruptly. "Did you have someone in mind?"

"Yeah, actually." Sam felt a momentary swell of pride. "My wife, C.J. Seaborn, may do it."

"C.J. Seaborn... didn't she used to be Press Secretary under Bartlet? And isn't she Catholic?"

"Yeah."

Kyle looked at Sam solemnly. "She doesn't have a lot of experience."

"Yeah." Sam said no more.

Kyle paused, turning it over in his mind. Finally, he spoke. "I like the idea."

"That's really, really good to hear." Sam fumbled in his pocket for a slip of paper and was struck by the irony. Years ago he'd have had an immaculate little card. Now he was reduced to scribbled slips of paper.

He wrote his phone number on the card and handed it to the young man. "Here. This is my number. I have to tell you, this may break any day if she decides to do it. So take this and call me when you see it break."

"Okay." Kyle looked at the scribbled numbers. "I'll do that." To his credit, he didn't even bring up his grandfather as Sam walked away.

Who to talk to now? Sam wondered. He needed more information. He'd talked at Gage Whitney. The White House was out of bounds, being Republican and all.

Wait. Of course!

Sam immediately changed directions and headed home, for his address book. He had to call Leo and get a name.

Hoynes. Of course, Hoynes would run. And he'd be C.J.'s opposition. How would he react?

Cursing his stupidity, Sam drove home as fast as he could. How could he have forgotten Hoynes?

The house was silent as Sam walked in. He walked to his study and found the thick notepad that served as his address book. Dialing Leo and Eleanor's summer place, he waited impatiently for one of them to pick up.

Eleanor picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Hi, Eleanor, it's Sam. Is Leo around?"

She could hear the urgency in his voice. "I think he's on the deck. Let me go find him." She put the receiver down, and Sam could hear her shouting, "Leo! Telephone!"

Finally Leo came to the phone. "Hello?"

"Leo, it's Sam. I need your help."

"Sure, what's up?"

"I need someone to call in Hoynes' office." Sam prayed that Leo wouldn't ask why; he didn't want to broach the subject yet. "Do you still have contacts on his staff?"

"I think so." Leo paused, thinking. "There's a few people you could call. What do you want with them?"

Improvising, Sam came up with something suitably vague. "Just a fact-finding mission."

"Okay." Leo thought a moment more and came up with an answer. "How about Maria Quinn?"

"Who's she again?"

"She's Janeane's assistant. If something's going on with Hoynes, she'd know."

"Okay. Thanks."

"Sure. Hey, Sam?"

"Yeah."

"You will tell me what this is about, right?"

Sam grinned. "Eventually."

He hung up and dialed the number Leo had given him. While waiting for her to pick up, he asked himself what he would say. His gentle approach hadn't worked too well on his friend at Gage Whitney. How could he approach Maria and get results?

"Hello?" Maria Quinn sounded harried as she picked up the phone.

"Hi, Maria, it's Sam. Sam Seaborn." He paused. "Did I call at a bad time?"

"Oh, hi Sam." Maria's voice flooded with happiness upon hearing him. "It's a little busy around here, but when is it not? How are you? How's C.J.?"

"I'm fine, Maria, and actually, C.J.'s the reason I'm calling." Sam saw his opportunity. "She's all right and everything, but there's something I'd like to ask you." He could trust this woman. She might work for Hoynes, but she played fair.

"Sure."

"Well... it's no secret that Hoynes is gonna run for the nomination, right?" 

"Right. Most of the work that goes on around here is preparing for the campaign."

"Well, here's my question." Sam hesitated, again wondering about the phrasing. Finally he decided that straight to the point would be best. "Maria, C.J.'s thinking of running for President."

There was a silence on the other end of the phone, and Sam wondered for a second if she'd hung up. "Maria?"

"I'm here, just thinking." She laughed, just once. "That'd be pretty interesting. The senator would explode."

"Because she's an opponent, or because she's a woman?" Sam kept with his blunt approach.

Maria stopped to think. "You know, Sam, I'm not sure? He doesn't like her personally, I don't think, but that's a Bartlet grudge, not a misogynist grudge. But I know he would probably take it even more personally if he was beaten by a woman. Just because it's not supposed to happen."

"That makes sense." Sam tried to keep his tone upbeat, but he wasn't surprised. Hoynes was a political animal, and this was right in keeping with his personality.

"Sam, if it's any consolation, I'd vote for C.J."

Sam laughed. "I know you would, Maria. Thanks."

"No problem, Sam. But call me more often, would you?" Maria said. "The only time I ever hear from you is if I read something you've written."

"Okay. I promise. I'll keep you posted." Sam hung up, mentally adding another black mark to his list. This wasn't good. But perhaps it could still be salvaged.

He would just have to leave everything to C.J. and see what she decided.

 


	3. Words Upon The Waves 3

Disclaimers/etc: see part one.   
\-------------------

After a day of mindless busywork for his latest brief, Sam arrived home. "C.J., I'm back!"

"In here, Sam."

He found her in their den, poring over receipts. "Sam, did you know that in the last year the Dow has dropped � "

" � Two hundred points, yes," Sam finished. "Why?"

She looked at him levelly. "I was curious about our financial situation." There was no need to ask why.

Getting out of the chair, C.J. pushed her glasses up onto the top of her head. "What did you find out?"

Sam hedged a bit. What to do but give her the straight facts? "Honestly?"

"I would hope honestly."

Sam ignored that. "Honestly, it doesn't look that good." He paused. "I found a few supporters, but Hoynes would be furious and the corporate money would be behind Stewart. Jim Irwin would have all of Gage Whitney up in arms."

She sensed his direction. "But," C.J. prompted.

"But," Sam agreed. "I did find some potential supporters who could really help us in a fight."

"And they would be?..."

"Kyle Gage."

"Old man Gage's grandson?"

"Yeah." Sam consulted his memory. "Apparently he's a Democrat; a real black-sheep type." He smiled self-consciously as he fiddled with the lock of hair that kept falling over his eye. It was turning a bit gray. "He reminds me of myself at twenty-three or so."

C.J. smiled. "Well, then he'd be pretty valuable."

Sam continued. "The other person who might be valuable is Maria Quinn, who's Janeane's assistant right now."

"How could we use Maria?"

Sam shrugged. "Administrative, maybe. She's just a good type to have around. She's loyal."

"I'd suppose so."

Just then, though, the telephone rang. "I'll get it," Sam said, picking up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Mr Seaborn?" The voice was young, feminine.

"This is me � I mean, this is he. May I ask who's calling?"

"Mr. Seaborn, this is Laine Martin."

Sam covered the receiver for a moment. "Holy hell."

"What?" C.J.'s interest was piqued.

"It's Laine Martin."

"Laine got-Senator-Thorndyke-elected-by-herself Martin?"

"Yep." Sam went back to the conversation. "What can I do for you, Ms. Martin?"

"Well, I hope I'm not being presumptuous, but I was at Gage Whitney Pace today on a routine matter and I heard James Irwin expounding at a..." She stopped, choosing diplomatic words. "... rather loud and furious clip... about your wife possibly running for the Democratic nomination."

"Yes?"

She got right to the point. "Mr. Seaborn, if your wife is running, I would like to work on the campaign."

"Oh, really?" Sam deliberately kept his voice as calm and unemotional as possible. Inside his heart was doing triple jumps. With Laine Martin on board, they just might have a chance. "Ms. Martin, what would you be interested in doing?"

C.J.'s eyes popped as she realized the significance of what Sam was saying. Laine Martin, offering to work on any campaign she might mount? This was madness! Intriguing madness, but nonetheless madness.

"Managing the campaign, writing press... you name it." Laine's tone held real promise. "I think a woman in power is exactly what the country needs." 

"Well, I'm certainly glad to hear it," Sam said. "Right now nothing is official."

"Yet." Laine's tone was supremely confident, and Sam found himself getting amused; he wished he'd had that kind of confidence at her age.

"Yet," he agreed. "But, and obviously this is off the record... we're definitely considering it."

"I hope you won't take offense, Mr. Seaborn, if I say that this would be a huge long shot."

"I know."

"But that's not a liability, as I'm sure you know." Laine was starting to get going. "Long shots appear fresh; untainted by Washington scandals �" Too late she halted her sentence. "Mr. Seaborn, I'm sorry, I didn't think."

"It's okay." Sam was quick to reassure. "It's in the past. And call me Sam."

"All right," she said, composure recovered. "And I'm Laine." Switching back to business, she said, "I have to go, but please, let me give you my phone number." She spelled out the digits. "Frankly, Sam, if this goes off, I want to be in on it."

"I think that can be guaranteed." Sam couldn't stop grinning as he replaced the receiver.

Instantly C.J. was in his face. "What happened? What did she say?"

Sam repeated the entire conversation, almost word for word. "And she said specifically she wants to be in on it." He breathed a sigh. "Jesus, C.J., this may have a shot at working!"

C.J. sighed. "Sam... God, this is so much to think about." Where could she start? It was like a twenty-headed monster, circling and snapping. CampaignfinanceBartletjobdaughterCatholicsupport...

Instantly he was all solicitude. "I'm sorry, hon. You're right." He laughed gently. "This wouldn't be my campaign. I'll cool it."

C.J. smiled. "Bartlet did tell you that you'd run for President one day."

"Yeah, but I think you'd do a better job than me." Sam got up. "I'd better see if I can't get Alyssa to take her afternoon nap."

"Okay. And Sam?"

"Yeah."

"I'll give it some thought. I promise I will."

"Take your time." His smile, as always, walked the fine line between making her feel blessed and breaking her heart. "It's your decision, Ceej. Not mine. So you've basically got til primaries start to make up your mind." He walked out the door, calling for his daughter. C.J. looked after him fondly, with a mix of respect and appreciation.

God, how she loved him.


	4. Words Upon The Waves 4

Disclaimers/etc: see part one.   
\-------------------

For the rest of the week, C.J. was in a state charitably described as a fog. She floated from appointment to play date to dinner to event. The rumors were starting to fly, but she didn't care; wasn't even cognizant of them.

The issue really was a twenty-headed monster. There were so many damned questions. But she was honest enough to admit to herself that she could see it. Could see herself being sworn in on a cold January day � though no rain, not for her Inauguration. She glimpsed Josh, waiting for the VP's oath. And she could see Sam, standing at her side, proud full to bursting. That vision carried some weight.

She arrived home, letting Alyssa run off to her playroom. Sitting at the kitchen table, C.J. ran through it all again in her mind. The PACs that would have to be set up. The realisation that it probably was a lost cause. The potential danger to herself, her husband and her daughter. All against a few supporters, ex-President Bartlet, and her own desires.

It was a damned tough call, that was for sure.

The phone rang, and eventually its rings got through C.J.'s consciousness. "Hello."

"C.J." Sam's voice was flat, the sort of tonelessness that preceded one of his rare rages.

"Yeah."

"Turn on channel five."

" 'Kay." She picked up the remote and flicked on the set. For a moment she got the strangest sense of déjà vu � sitting in her office during the Bartlet administration, watching her four TVs at once. It felt normal.

The news was on and the anchor was finishing a sentence. "...revealed that Seaborn may run for President. An unnamed source inside a Washington law firm revealed that he was approached about funding, which he denied."

"Funding?" C.J.'s mind, before connecting to fury, latched on to the unimportant. "You didn't talk to anyone at Gage Whitney about money, did you?"

"No, I didn't, dammit." Sam exhaled noisily. "He invented it to get the story more exposure. Now all the misogynists in the Beltway will be ganging up against us from the start, because it looks like we've done something wrong."

"Who did?"

"Jack Irwin. He's a partner at Gage Whitney. Conservative, slimy and obnoxious. I shouldn't have gone to him."

The report went on, so C.J. didn't answer. "Asked to comment on the situation," the newscaster continued, "incumbent President Joseph Stewart said, 'Why should C.J. Seaborn worry me? Let her run. It's not a threat at all. She'll have her fun, and then a real candidate will triumph. It's not like the country wants a return to an administration that embarrassed itself and the American people."

Stewart's carelessly chosen missiles did to C.J. what the newscaster hadn't done, what Sam, Bartlet, and her own mind had been unable to accomplish. It pissed her off. "That son of a bitch."

"Can't argue."

"That lying, sleazy son of a bitch."

"I know."

"No, Sam, you don't." C.J.'s voice was pure venom. "I don't give a shit what Stewart says about me. Well, maybe I do," she amended, "but that wasn't that bad. What bugs me is when Stewart insults Jed Bartlet when the scumbag wasn't even IN politics at the time!"

Sam knew his wife in this mood. "C.J...."

"Sam." There was a wicked sparkle in C.J.'s eyes. "I would like you to do me a favor."

"Sure."

At the moment she spoke, C.J. was unconscious of anything but her own adrenaline. "Sam, are you still friendly with Duncan Walker?" Walker was an accountant who'd done their taxes for years.

"Yes, why?"

"Because." C.J. was quiet triumph itself. "I would like to inquire into the feasibility of setting up PACs right now. If we're going to do this we'll need more money than this."

"You're doing it." Sam had to repeat the statement so he was convinced of its validity. He was numb, weak with shock. "You want to do it."

"Yep." C.J. said firmly. "I want to do it. I want you to help run the campaign, I want Laine Martin, I want Kyle Gage and Maria Quinn. I want Josh as the VP and Toby as the Chief of Staff. I want things to be like they used to be. And we're going to do it, dammit."

Sam was so proud of her as he listened to her firebrand ideals. They sounded like something... well, like something he himself would say. "So," he said, smiling, "we're going to play the game."

"That's right." C.J. still had the sparkle. She knew it would be resident for a while. "And we're going to have to play the winning way," she said, quoting Josh. "Mean."

 


End file.
